


devil worshipper

by SophieGraceJ



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Creepy vibes, F/M, Forgiveness, Satan - Freeform, compassion - Freeform, mallory kind of becoming a devil worshipper for Michael haha, ressurection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 09:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieGraceJ/pseuds/SophieGraceJ
Summary: “You killed my son, young witch.” Snakes hissed all around her, she lay in a bed of forever moving flesh. Long and thin as they travelled in the pit of darkness. Their soft, wet skin scarring her own.Mallory grunted a demand. “Let me wake up.”“Your sin is great. Michael was right. You would have suited our new world greatly,” it hissed into her ear, its talons grasping at her hips. “But it wasn’t sin that he wanted. Not from you. He wanted your innocence. He envied you. He wanted you because of his own sin.”“You’re the monster, not him.”





	devil worshipper

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is, but I really love the idea of Mallory being confronted by Satan for what she did, and I also love the idea of her wanting to bring Michael back to life. She's compassionate and I feel like she wouldn't deal well with what she did to save the world and her sisters.  
> And Millory. I'm emotional for Millory as of late.

'The battle between good and evil never ends. The Devil isn't just going to give up. And in changing the past, a part of me will always wonder what it truly means for the future.'

“Mal, where’re you going? You okay?” 

It was Coco, just Coco but it had jolted Mallory out of her focus to get to the bathroom. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just a bit unwell, I’m gonna take a bath and go to bed.” 

Coco’s big expressive eyes studied her for a moment, unsure of what was up most likely, but Mallory shot her a smile just in time, “Period. Stomach aches and all that great stuff.”

“It’s that time of the month? That sucks, if you need anything I’ll be here for a while. I’m waiting for the girls to bring out the popcorn, movie night is tonight.” Coco rolled her eyes, gesturing outside the living room, past the stone arches Mallory remembered all too well from two lives. She could hear the girls giggling and throwing things around, and she could also smell the scent of burning popcorn. Not exactly pleasant.

Miss Cordelia wasn’t going to be happy in the morning.

“Thanks Coco, don’t worry about me though, just think about all the horror films they’re gonna force you to watch,” Mallory laughed, already picturing her classmates scrolling through Netflix for the scariest looking movie. Coco was not a fan, and in all honesty, neither was Mallory. She’d experienced enough horror in her relatively short lifetime. 

Light frustration drew creases in Coco’s forehead, but not arrogant, and it managed to lift Mallory’s mood just a little, so different to Outpost Coco … no, don’t think about that. 

Mallory had her dress half-unzipped at the back, the lace practically falling from her shoulders, pooling just below her breast as she made her way to her bedroom. The room she shared with Coco. 

Funny. 

How for a time she had forgotten what her home looked like down in that dim outpost. She felt like a lost soul wandering the underworld, unknowing to who she really was, who she used to be. No matter how hard she tried, how hard she pretended, she would never be what she used to be. 

And what was worse, nobody would ever know but herself. She’d always just be … But she lost something. A piece of herself and she’d never get it back. 

Wrapped in her fuzzy warm towel, she sprinted to the bathroom and locked the door behind her, only just managing to escape the cold. 

She’d also never be able to look at a bathtub the same way… But she wasn’t silly enough to ignore a nice warm bath, to lay in comfort and forget all the horrible nightmares she’d been having ever since she travelled through time and kill- defeated Michael Langdon…

“Mallory.” 

His voice still lingered in her mind, the way it rolled from his tongue when he had no clue of what she really was. He wanted her in the sanctuary – whatever that place was – and he had no idea she was the enemy, that she was his downfall. Was it compassion? A sickly form, but still compassion none the less. 

Mallory didn’t bother waiting for the bathtub to fill, she used hydrokinesis instead. Less time and less cold. 

The hot water soothed all pain, within and without, and dragged a pleasant sigh from deep within her throat. She didn’t go under though, never could she do that again. Not without fear of darkness and nothingness. Of feeling lost in space and time. Drowning while breathing. 

“I think you’re made for that world Mallory…” 

She clenched her eyes shut and rubbed hot water over her face, wetting her hair in the process. 

“I sense it in you.” 

“I want to leave.”

“You’re afraid.” Mallory’s eyes fluttered wide, hand clenching onto to the side of the bath in a vice-like grip, knuckles white and nails clawing into the porcelain. 

“Of accepting who you are.” 

“I don’t know who I am,” Mallory whispered in the silence of the bathroom, like an actor rehearsing a scene in a play, but she had no partner, she had killed her partner. 

She huffed; a sound most often heard before an overpowering sob. 

For some reason there was a strange grief for Michael. She was overcome with anger, revenge and longing when she did it. But not anymore, she was left with the scar of taking someone’s life, even if it meant the world and her sisters were saved. She took a life…

Could things have been different? Could she have saved him? Helped him choose the right path? Or was he always destined to destroy the world? His entire existence dedicated to that purpose planted by Satan. It gave her a headache, welled tears in her eyes. 

She’d sacrificed so much of herself. Was it worth it? 

She hadn’t acknowledged the veil of sleep falling over her, she hadn’t noticed the heaviness of her lids and blanket-like water trapping her body. She hadn’t recognised her head descending into the water, as if it was subconscious, a ritual she had stored inside her head. To be afraid and remain in the darkness and nothingness of time and space. 

It was dark, yes, but it wasn’t nothing. 

“Don’t be afraid Mallory…” 

She wanted so badly for it to be him, it had to be him. His calming voice, even after the memory of him slaughtering her sisters before her very soul was taken from her, it drew her in. It called for her and she wanted the cold embrace of his hand on her arm, stopping her from leaving the outpost, the underworld. 

“…I’m offering you a chance to live.” 

A hallway. Something from an expensive hotel, but it never ended. The hall was linear and covered in shining blackness. It was cold, so very cold. Her stomach dropped, but nothing arose in her throat. Her eyes watered, the air acidic, it burnt her skin and eyes. 

She was nude, slick with bathwater, it dribbled onto the glistening floor as she walked the hallway. So many doors, so many screams and cries echoing from within them. A soul in each no doubt. 

She was in a place of darkness. She could feel it. 

“I thought I destroyed them all…” 

His voice didn’t come from any of the doors, it came from the other end of the hallway. A signal reaching out to her, begging for her to rescue it. She quickened her pace, tried to find him…

“But one survived, I’ve found her, she’s here.” 

Whimpers. Sobs from the mouth of a conflicted boy. 

“I’m so sorry. Grandma…” 

She ran, sprinted through the cold uncaring to the eyes on her back. She felt it watching her… Not Michael, something much sinister. Something truly evil. 

“I’m a monster.”

No. I am. Mallory hated herself for not trying harder, for giving into her anger. 

“Why would you want to help me?” 

She fell, as if someone pulled a rug out from beneath her feet. She never landed on any hard surface, she fell forever, or was she levitating? 

“Devil worshipper.”

His… no, its voice slithered into her ears and nested in her head. It wasn’t Michael. It was darker, malice. It was him but … evil. It was the seed within him. 

“You killed my son, young witch.” Snakes hissed all around her, she lay in a bed of forever moving flesh. Long and thin as they travelled in the pit of darkness. Their soft, wet skin scarring her own. 

Mallory grunted a demand. “Let me wake up.” 

“Your sin is great. Michael was right. You would have suited our new world greatly,” it hissed into her ear, its talons grasping at her hips. “But it wasn’t sin that he wanted. Not from you. He wanted your innocence. He envied you. He wanted you because of his own sin.” 

“You’re the monster, not him.” 

It laughed. It found her anger amusing. She could feel its satisfaction bubbling like boiling blood rising up against her vulnerable flesh. “I’m going to keep you when my offspring massacres this dirty world, when he creates a new one from the blood and ashes. You’re fun to corrupt.” 

Mallory whimpered, fear finally weaving its way out from deep in her heart. She was afraid. Michael was right. 

Michael … where was he? Could she still save him? Bring him back? 

“I could always use your womb. Your belly would cherish my seed, grow a beautiful garden. An eternal garden. No matter how many times my offspring die, you’ll always give me another.” 

Mallory gagged. Something wet and slick pressed onto her thigh, she tugged at the limbs of flesh that strangled her body, but it worked to no avail. 

Michael… 

“I won’t. The fun isn’t worth the trouble. You’re much better pure. I’ll let you corrupt your own goodness; I’ll watch and play. Your suffering means much more than a child.” 

“I’m going to bring him back.” 

“Oh, he’s never coming back. He’s hidden away. You did that yourself witch.” 

“I killed him, I can bring him back,” Mallory argued, ignoring the touch of its hand, soft and human-like brushing over her breasts, its breath hovering by the nape of her neck and its smell of decaying flowers. 

“Michael would have loved you most. He would have tried to protect you from me. He would have failed, but he would have tried. You could have been his world, his light.” 

“I can still save him.” 

Its teeth snared into the crook of her neck, she screamed into the abyss. 

“I’ll give him to you, if you promise me one thing witch.” 

Mallory writhed in his grip, clasped her nails into its slick flesh, black and oozing decay and manipulation. Corruption and death. No, not even death was like it. Death was both chaos and peace. Satan was apathy to both. 

“You will stay away from my newborn. You have your Michael and forgiveness, but you do not stop me from devouring this world.” 

Mallory growled when his nails dug deep into her ribs. “What do you say?”

“Yes.” 

“And when this world is mine, you will sit by my side and let me do as I please. You will be mine, more than the earth itself. You will be my little devil worshipper.” 

It took the vision of a younger, innocent Michael under her wing in the academy with the girls, where she’d protect him from corruption to encourage a yes from her mouth. 

The yes couldn’t evolve from her tongue however. It… no, his… his mouth devoured hers. His lips were soft and shapely, exactly the shape of Michaels… What she imagined would be his lips on hers, was really the mouth of his father signing her deal with the devil. 

“Wake up.”

Mallory sputtered and gasped on lungs filled with water. Her eyes burning and nostrils flaring as she clawed her way out of the bath. She fell onto her chest, the tiles freezing and apathetic to her struggling body. 

“Oh my god! The omen is actually a good movie guys, can we watch it?” 

One of the girls downstairs yelled about the film and its subject. The word antichrist echoing from below. 

Mallory lost her breath when she saw an unconscious but breathing man with golden curls, lying beside her, naked and vulnerable….

Michael.


End file.
